Ma Belle Fleur
by Miss Never Evil
Summary: When Fleur is found dead, many old feelings resurface and her past lover is left feeling alone. Will the Malfoys ever be helpful? If you read, you will know whose POV it is. Rated "R" possible language and possibly some sexuality.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, all rights go to J.K.Rowling and Warner Brothers (who produce the films). If you even thought I might own Harry Potter, please go check your nearest bookstore/library to prove me right.  
  
*Luv & Hugz*  
  
Vampire_Hunee  
  
Summary: When Fleur is found dead, many old feelings resurface and her past lover is left feeling alone. Will the Malfoys ever be helpful? If you read, you will know whose POV it is. Rated "R" possible language and possibly some sexuality.  
  
Also, there may be the occasional use of French, if so, translations will be provided.  
  
Shall we?  
  
Ma Belle Fleur--My Beautiful Fleur (flower)  
  
When I saw her there, I wanted to run to her. I saw Voldemort, he was coming from an alley behind her. I wanted to run to her and embrace her as I once had, so many years ago at the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
Slowly, as in a dream, I saw him raise his wand. I called out to her then, telling her to run, to defend herself. Just how she would defend herself against Voldemort, I don't know.  
  
I saw his smile when he saw me watching him, then in a raspy voice, he whispered the Killing Curse, "Avada Kadavra." I watched her tumble to the ground, and with all her Veela grace she fell. Landing so lightly I wasn't even sure she had touched the ground.  
  
Then he laughed, laughed at the horror on my face, laughed at her death. Voldemort must have truly loved that moment, for he laughed till tears of blood poured down his face from his blood-red eyes.  
  
"Bella, my dear, do not mourn the loss of this beautiful flower. She was a pretty thing to look at but nothing more, my dear." His deed finished, with a small "pop" he disappeared, probably back to his lair.  
  
As soon as his haunting laughter had stopped ringing in my ears, I ran to her. Kneeling beside her, I took her hand in mine.  
  
"Ma belle Fleur," I gasped between sobs, "my beautiful Fleur."  
  
As I sat there, staring at her dead face, the light smile on her lips from seeing me, the horror in her eyes from the sight of my Dark Lord, I was overcome with such love and grief as I have ever known. I gently closed her eyes, the flesh still warm to my touch.  
  
I wanted to kiss her then, kiss her like I had that night at the Leaky Cauldron. Kiss her until our lips were nearly purple with bruises, then spend the night in each others arms, knowing nothing but love and safety.  
  
I wanted to feel her tongue brush gently, softly, tentatively across mine. I wanted just one more minute with her. One more kiss, one more night.  
  
But my Dark Lord had taken it all. Taken the one thing I truly love in the world. Killed her. He had killed my Flower, my Fleur.  
  
I needed to tell someone, tell that Voldemort had murdered. But whenever I tried to move away from her, I was compelled to look at her, to remember that night.  
  
That night, so long ago, and yet so recent. That night, after a dinner of small sandwiches from a deli in London and a Butterbeer from the Leaky Cauldron, we stayed the night there. And near three in the morning, we finally slept. Naked and tangled in each others arms, we slept. In the morning I awoke to find my Fleur sitting on the windowsill drinking tea and looking at me.  
  
'So my sleeping beauty rises at last,' she had said, her accent quiet and barely noticed.  
  
I had smiled, then slowly risen to acquire a robe, then joined her by the window. Diagon Alley stretched before us, and already there were people everywhere. Preparing for the next school term I suppose, purchasing robes, wands, parchment, pets, and books.  
  
But, back to the present.  
  
I needed to tell someone, but I was unsure of where we were. True, I had brought us here, but it was by way of a portkey, compliments of my Lord. So, just where we were, I hadn't a clue.  
  
I finally overcame the spell of her beauty and gently lifted her from where she had lain. Thankfully she was light, light as a feather one might say. I cradled her gently, as if she were a small child in my arms. She looked as though she were sleeping, although her limbs had begun to go cold.  
  
I couldn't stop myself, even though I knew she was dead, I stopped and gently wrapped my jacket around her. Perhaps it was so I didn't have to feel her death.  
  
I shuddered when a slight breeze rippled through the air. The night wasn't that warm.  
  
I turned to survey my surroundings. With a sudden jolt of terror and pleasure, I recognized where I was. I was near the west wing of Malfoy Manner. If I played my cards right, Lucius might help me. If he wouldn't, surely his son, Draco, would. Fleur had said he was quite taken with her. Surely he would help in the event of her death, just to be near her was intoxicating. Trust me, I know.  
  
Cautiously, ever so carefully, I made my way toward the light I see gleaming the distance. As I near the light, I see that it is a window, and I see a boy sprawled across a bed of what looks like black silk and velvet. Only the best for Malfoys, huh?  
  
He looks like he's reading. I tap gently on the window. When he looks up, I signal for him to be silent.  
  
He comes over to me, then slides the window open. Only after I climb in does he notice Fleur.  
  
"Fucking hell, is she…?" He can't bring himself to finish.  
  
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," is the only answer I provide.  
  
He nods then gently takes her from my arms and lays her on the bed. It's too much for me to bear, I start crying again. I see tears forming in the eyes of young Mister Malfoy. I thought Malfoys didn't show emotion.  
  
"What needs to be done, Bellatrix?" I curse my full name. I scowl and think.  
  
"I'm not really sure…who needs to be told?"  
  
He turned on his heel and strode to the fireplace beside his desk. He reached on to the mantle and pulled down a tarnished silver box. Inside was some Floo powder. He gently pinched some out of the box and threw it into the fire.  
  
Then, casually, as though he did this every day, he knelt down and put his head in the flames.  
  
I heard him mutter, "Hog's Head, Diagon Alley." I wondered, now why would he go to the Hog's Head? Surely that's an odd place to find help, no one there but Ministry informants. Wait…would he…never…but he could be……Lucius Malfoy's son…a spy for Dumbledore? Weirder things have happened, I guess.  
  
I walked back over to my Fleur and gently combed her hair, which had become tangled sometime after she was killed.  
  
I heard Draco come up behind me. "Fucking bastard, never where I need him, when I need him. Shit-head."  
  
"Can I help you, Young Master Malfoy?"  
  
He turned around, as though startled by my presence. "I needed to talk to Dung--"  
  
"As in Mundungus Fletcher? From the-dare I say-Order?"  
  
"Yes, the very one." Then he remembered to whom he was speaking. "You won't tell my father, will you? He'd kill me, please stay quiet."  
  
"Shush, young one, your secret is safe, I think I'll become 'good' too, after tonight and all…"  
  
He sighed and walked around to his closet, where he whispered a spell, then opened a small compartment I doubt even Lucius knew about. From within, he pulled a small, leather-bound book. He thumbed through the book until he found the page he was looking for. He then read aloud: " 'Albus Dumbledore, Marseilles, France,' ah, lovely, the headmaster with a tan."  
  
He returned to the fireplace and again used some Floo powder, only this time he muttered, "Albus Dumbledore, Marseille, France."  
  
While he spoke with his headmaster, I went to his closet and removed a sweater for myself.  
  
Moments later, he stood and strode to the window, looking out with a searching gaze. Apparently, Dumbledore was coming here. Just bloody brilliant!  
  
I heard the soft rustle of what was unmistakably a cloak, then saw Draco move away from the window as Albus stepped through.  
  
"Draco, Bellatrix," he said quietly with a slight nod to each of us.  
  
He walked over to my Fleur and mumbled something that sounded like, "what a shame, so young and beautiful, too."  
  
He turned to Draco and I, "Mister Malfoy has explained the situation, and asked that I take Miss Delacour to the Ministry in London as soon as may be possible. But, I am afraid that Bellatrix Lestrange must accompany me. Her account of the events must be given to the Minister."  
  
He turned to me with sorrow in his eyes, "I'm sorry, Miss Bella, but they may return you to Azkaban for your past actions."  
  
I looked him in the eye, my chin raised, "that is where I belong, Sir, somewhere where I cannot harm the innocent, be it under a spell or willingly."  
  
"Very well, Draco, will you come with us?"  
  
Draco looked from me to Dumbledore, "I would like that very much, but I am afraid I cannot go. If my father found me gone, there would be some serious hell to pay when I got back." He said this all very quickly, with his slight Malfoy drawl.  
  
"Very well, Bella, can you take her?" Dumbledore asked, gesturing towards Fleur.  
  
"Of course," I whispered, then gently picked her up. She was now dead weight, yet still light as a feather, so to speak.  
  
Dumbledore took a pinch of Floo powder, stepped into the flames, the said clearly, "Ministry of Magic." Then was gone.  
  
I turned to Draco, "thank you so much for your help, I really needed it." He simply smiled, then threw a bit of Floo powder into the fire for me.  
  
"Ministry of Magic." I had forgotten how much I hated traveling by Floo until now. The whizzing homes and shops, really no fun at all.  
  
When I finally stopped, I'd have fallen onto my Fleur, had Dumbledore not caught me.  
  
"Thank you," I muttered, only to receive a small smile.  
  
Immediately, the Minister appeared, ordering that I be taken away. Dumbledore stopped him with some kind, quiet words,  
  
"Cornelius, she is willing to help us against Voldemort, and she is here because of Miss Fleur Delacour's death."  
  
The idiot Minister hadn't even noticed my burden until Dumbledore pointed it out to him.  
  
"Galloping Gargoyles! Was she killed by Lord --- Thingy?"  
  
"Yes, she is willing to give full details of tonight's account, if only you have the time. And it was young Malfoy that informed me."  
  
"Was it really? Hmmm…" He seemed thoughtful. "Very well Miss Lestrange, you have my attention, and Dumbledore's too it appears. Consider yourself lucky."  
  
"Oh, I do already, have no fear in that."  
  
And after much discussion and debate and many tears on my account, the Minister and Dumbledore agreed to let be serve as a spy in exchange for me not having to return to Azkaban.  
  
Fleur had a quiet funeral, nothing fancy. Many tears were shed for her, even by Draco Malfoy. So, although she is gone, she is not forgotten, and she never will be.  
  
Phew, the end  
  
Its long, I know. But thanks for reading.  
  
I'd really appreciate it if you'd review, please.  
  
Thanks again 


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